


Domesticity

by Nyaoww



Category: Dragon Nest
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Humor, Misuse of Special Techniques
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyaoww/pseuds/Nyaoww
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Skillbooks are really just guidelines and domestic application is the most (un)orthodox way to use battle skills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Relic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is perhaps not the most orthodox way to use a relic.

This is perhaps not the most orthodox way to use a relic. Deidrik muses as he takes a step back to observe his handiwork.

Two Healing Relic EXes stand before him, the sharp pointed tips on the bottom end of the relic shafts digging deep into the ground allowing the relics to maintain a stiff perpendicular against the ground.

They are positioned exactly 5 metres apart.

A transparent fishing string is tied to the thick shafts of the two relics- just beneath the section where the relic sprouts symmetrical ceramic wings- pulled so taut that Deidrik still has the scars on his hands where the string had cut through his calluses.

Along the fishing string, one undershirt, one navy pant and a pair of socks hang via wooden clips the size of his thumb.

Heck! It is probably the  _most_ unorthodox way to use healing relics! He can't wait to show this to Kamijyou!

* * *

The floored look on Kamijyou's face when he sees the contraption is  _priceless_.

Deidrik's hand itches to help the stunned Crusader pick up his jaw from where it is hanging, but he restrains himself(barely), what if the Crusader bites his fingers off in his shock? Who said that's a ridiculous notion?! Kamijyou has  _very_  sharp teeth! He even has the scars to prove it!

Eventually, even the stunned Crusader becomes bored of the silence. He closes his mouth with his own palm and Deidrik snaps to attention, awaiting the verdict. Kamijyou works his throat, once, twice. Finally, out comes a stilted "H-How?"

Deidrik's cheek muscles, which had fixed themselves to a semi-permanent :) smiley face sometime during the wait, protest as he moves them, but he proceeds on relentlessly. And then, as he opens his mouth, it is as if a flood dam had been lifted.

"Funny you should ask that. But then again maybe not. You see, I've got so many relics at my disposal; lightning, healing, cure, bind, miracle relics so I just keep wondering, 'Why do these relics all appear and disappear at different intervals of time, but each type of relic always stays in our plane for a consistently fixed amount of time  _every single time_  I summon them?' So I got to experimenting with them and  **did you know** , the healing relic emits exactly five healing pulses at two second intervals and disappears immediately after emitting its fifth pulse? But then I thought 'Why two second intervals? And why five pulses? Why not six?' So I thought maybe this has to do with the amount of mana I pour into the relic, the mana cost written in the guidebook is really just a recommendation anyway. So I tried giving the relic more mana, and then it became six pulses, then I gave it less and it became three pulses! But the weird thing is! The interval is  _always_  the same! So I thought maybe I just need to give the relic the mana slo-ower, so I tried easing the mana out slowly, sort of like holding pee in. Y'know, like you're tensing up the muscle so that less of it leak out so that it goes over a longer period and then-  **nnffghh**!"

Fuck. His tongue.  _Fuck_. That hurt.  **Alot**. Thank Altea at least  _somebody_  in this room does not have sharp teeth. Otherwise his tongue would be down an inch. Or half. It hurt too much to measure right now.

"Nngf." Deidrik tries to huff over his pain, eyelids fluttering rapidly to blink back pained tears, but Kamijyou's palm remains solidly clamped against his jaw. Did he have to use his master hand?!

"Stop. Shut up." Callused fingers dig into the grooves of his jawline warningly and Deidrik stiffens, sufficiently cowed.

It takes another long minute, which Deidrik spends absentmindedly feeding the two healing relics in his backyard with just enough mana to maintain their presence but barely enough to manifest healing pulses, before the fingers eventually lax and remove themselves from his jaw. Only when the hand is fully retracted and Kamijyou shows no signs of continued aggression does Deidrik reach up massage his tongue carefully with his fingers. Other than the obvious grooves where his teeth had been buried into the poor abused appendage, he does not find any holes. Phew.

"Let me get this straight. You. Built a clothes rack out of Healing Relic EXes. Because you were  _bored_." Kamijyou's perfect deadpan bulldozed over his annoyed grumbling.

Deidrik pauses, blinking. He didn't mention the bored part did he.

"You've been banned from the PvP arena for the past six weeks and trading market prices has been so ridiculously high for the past week that it's non-negotiable.  _Of course_  you were bored."

Oops. He wasn't that transparent was he.

"Yes. Yes, you are. I just didn't realise your depths of boredom would sink deep enough to produce  **this**." The exasperated tone Kamijyou's voice takes make him bristle briefly.

"It's not that bad! We can use this out in the field you know." He protests.

"Yeah, this works better than, oh I don't know, a  _campfire_?"

"Yeah! And you know for planting corn and the like-"

" **DEIDRIK**."

 **End**  :3


	2. Cook of the Guild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamijyou, meet food. Food, meet Kamijyou.

Sweet and sour with a hint of minty aftertaste, yum. Kamijyou leans back against his rattan recliner with a satisfied sigh. Nothing beats the taste of homemade Peach Juice.

A cool breeze glides along Cristal Stream through Calderock village to mingle with the distanced bustling of villagers, vendors and adventurers alike to form a soothing melody. It is reminiscent of a folk song he had once heard, long ago.

Mm, yes, he is resolved to wallow in his bliss for as long as physically possible. This is his well-earned break from enduring Fortnight Hell with Merchant May and her inhumane expectations.

Thanks to the slave— _employee_ contract he has signed with the scheming merchant, he had no choice but to comply with her demands— _request_ to make non-stop back-and-forth deliveries to 7 different towns and cities over the past 14 days.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Deliveries to Saint Haven, Lotus Marsh, even _Anu Arendel_ , he could handle. But deliveries to and fro the **_City of Death_**?

How did May even manage to negotiate with those murderous Dark Elves anyway??

Wait. It’s better to not know. Kamijyou shudders.

Tipping his mug to his lips he takes another long pull of Peach Juice. And come up short.

Oh well, he heaves a resigned sigh and pushes himself up from his seat. Time to get more juice. Leaving the balcony and his favourite rattan chair, he pads back into the apartment.

The living area is surprisingly unoccupied, a rare occurrence ever since Kamijyou and Deidrik had decided to volunteer their apartment as the guild house for their guild (Deidrik’s guild officially, but who’s counting).

Replacing someone’s fallen pillow back onto the couch, Kamijyou continues his way toward the kitchen, keeping an eye out for Flayce, their resident cook.

“Flayce, do you have any more of that Peach—“ Kamijyou pauses. His next words lodge themselves in his throat, near his adam’s apple, and he briefly contemplates releasing them or swallowing them back in.

As expected of a cook, Flayce is surrounded by mouth-watering smells of lunch cooking, complete with a sputtering rice cooker to her right, an oven baking tarts on her left, and a pot sitting on a stove in front of her.

Not expected of a cook, the Physician is holding a visibly wilted Slime over the pot and appears, for all intents and purposes, to be _putting the Slime into the pot_.

A second later, she **_does_**.

The previously jammed words die an untimely death in Kamijyou’s oesophagus. So does the Slime in the boiling pot. Kamijyou can almost hear its silent scream.

“Ah Kamijyou, did you need more Peach Juice?” Flayce asks when she turns to him with an innocent smile. All the while a white lily hand calmly stirs the melted Slime in the pot in gentle, even circles.

He must have nodded to her at some point, because she turns the stove fire off, wipes her hands on her lacy white apron skirt and heads for their ‘refrigerator’ at the corner of the kitchen. The floating Ice Hand— Ice Palm, Kamijyou corrects himself— unclenches itself at her silent command and she retrieves the jug of Peach Juice and a large rectangular container from the centre of its upturned palm.

Apparently uncaring of Kamijyou’s temporary motor dysfunction, she refills the mug in his motionless hand and returns to the stove. From the rectangular container, she grabs a large handful of red fruits— Strawberries, Kamijyou’s mind automatically fills in— and drops them into the pot.

Then, with quick practised motion, she lifts the pot off of the stove, sets it on a metal tub, and starts to pour a blue chemical mixture from a large round flask, complete with condensation and all, into the metal tub.

“The Icing Mass chills the jelly faster than Ice Palm, so I’m giving my Strawberry Jelly an icy water bath.” Flayce explains cheerfully, having interpreted Kamijyou’s look at the familiar looking grenade flask as that of a confused variant.

“I… see.” He manages to force a halting response from his throat.

Jelly. He just witnessed a Slime sacrificed to the (un)worthy cause of Strawberry Jelly.

Oh holy mother of Altea.

A drink. Yes, a drink is exactly what he needs to calm down, or chill out, or whatever that is going to stop him from drawing a fervent cross against his chest and getting into a full blown sermon over the unfortunate death of a _Slime_ right this moment.

Oh what a startling coincidence! There’s a mug of Peach Juice in his hand!

Kamijyou throws back the Peach Juice as he would an alcoholic beverage and waits for the ice cool juice to soothe his stuttering heartbeat and slow his racing mind. Miraculously, his previously impending migraine is gone too.

Setting the mug down on the kitchen counter, he realises that Flayce is standing before him with a basket cradled between her slender arms.

“Kamijyou, this is Pookybear, Leona and Ogun’s lunch. Will you bring this to them for me?” The Physician says, flipping the checked cloth on the basket aside to reveal the contents of the basket.

Bundles of rice balls, a dozen peach tarts and two canisters labelled Apple Juice and Cocktail. Weird food combination aside, there’s basically nothing wrong with the ingredients, so Kamijyou decides against making any comments about the food.

“Sure.” He agrees easily. He has nothing up for the day anyway, besides wallowing in peace and dropping by Shylock’s Trading House to look out for new flails.

“Alright! The boys are over at Lower Ridge Forest. You’ll be able to find them easily enough.” Flayce grins, dropping the basket into his hands with an audible cheer and twists back to poke at the rapidly cooling jelly.

“They’re not at Shylock’s place?” Kamijyou blinks. Those three are Trading maniacs. If they are not out on missions, Kamijyou was sure to find them skulking around the trading house. Unless prices went up and down like a Majesty’s Switch Gravity, then they’d be working out their frustrations in the Coliseum, or at the nearest Blacksmith.

“Yep, they’ve been working on a pet project for the past 2 days.” Flayce says distractedly, her dainty hands hidden from view as she fiddles with the jelly in the pot.

When she eventually turns around, a square blob of transparent jelly with red strawberry bits in it is sitting on a round white plate and staring at Kamijyou.  

Oh wait, jellies don’t have eyes right? _Right?_

“The jelly’s done just in time! Will you bring it to them— ”

“No!” Kamijyou blurts without thought. At Flayce’s widening eyes, he flops for an explanation. “Uh, that is. I think that rice balls and peach tarts are enough for the boys, right? So I’ll just er… head over to the forest right now. See you! Bye!”

The apartment door slams loudly as he flees— leaves. He’s probably never left the apartment quite as fast before.

Oh Altea.

Jelly. _Jelly with eyes._

 

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering, I referenced Konnyaku Jelly making process :3


	3. Hack ‘n Spin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which bribery is the way to get things done. Like enlisting experimental subjects.

Armed with Flayce's picnic basket loaded full of lunch for Ogun, Leona and Pookybear, Kamijyou stands at the brink of Lower Ridge forest.

To his left is the obscure entrance to Minotaur's Nest. Before him is a Lightning Relic EX.

Stuck on the relic is a sign proudly declaring 'Property of CaiGarden guild! Trespassers will be electrocuted!'.

Judging by the pink beret balanced on the topmost tip of the relic, the relic belongs to Deidrik. A no brainer, really. Not that Kamijyou has anything against pink berets. Dear Altea, no. It is not exactly the most masculine coloured beret— but it is not hideous enough to be exiled from his wardrobe. Hideous would be say, a Neon Green beret. Or a Brilliant Magenta Beret. Now that is just screaming ' **Burn Me** '.

But, he has digressed.

Anyway, the only person to Kamijyou's knowledge who is lacking in common sense enough to be decorating Lightning Relic EXs with berets is Deidrik. How the Saint is managing to maintain the relic in lower ridge all the way from Saint Haven though, Kamijyou can't even begin to understand.

It is said that there is a thin line between genius and insanity. In Deidrik's case, the line must be non-existent.

Looking beyond the sign, Kamijyou sees a scene of pure carnage. Tree stumps litter all over the ground fallen in various positions that makes him wonder if a natural disaster had stopped by here, and never got the memo to go to Calderock. The edges of the tree stumps are clean though, as though cut by a blade, so he quickly discards the natural disaster idea.

Stepping past Deidrik's sign, Kamijyou makes his way through the carnage of trees. It is a winding journey. Perhaps that is why he does not spot the three warriors until they are within hearing range. Within hearing range for warriors and screamers, Kamijyou mentally corrects, anyone else would be inaudible.

"— still rooted so Pookybear can cut through the trunk easier." Ogun is saying when Kamijyou draws closer. The Barbarian's voice is a soothing deep tenor, on the cusp of baritone, a vast vast difference from when he is Howling.

How does he sound like when he's howling? A  **Banshee**.

"What about the tree leaves?" Asks Leona, his fellow Barbarian, or Barbie as Flayce affectionately nicknames them.

...Yes, Kamijyou laughed his arse off when he first heard her call them that. Who wouldn't? Honestly.  _Who wouldn't?_

"Same method as before, just get rid of them before Pookybear starts cutting." Ogun replies.

The three warriors nod, draw their respective weapons and shift about a tree until all three of them form a single line with the stout tree. Furthest of them all is Pookybear with his two-handed sword, then Ogun and Leona with their axes, standing an arm's length from either side of the tree.

By an unspoken cue, Ogun and Leona simultaneously begin to spin on the spot in a form that Kamijyou identifies to be their ultimate skill, the Whirlwind Typhoon. Deafening rustling surrounds them, and before Kamijyou can manage to reach up to cover his ears, he sees a phenomenon enfold from the tree between the Barbarians.

Almost as if summoned, the leaves on the tree detach themselves from their branches and swirl into the visible circular gusts of the Barbarians' whirlwind. One by one by one, the leaves take flight. Until, eventually, the tree is entirely bald.

It is only when the twin whirlwinds begin showing signs of dying off, does Pookybear begin his move. With two forceful swings, he launches a Cyclone Slash towards the spirals of leaves.

The moving cyclone quickly gathers the leaves from Ogun's dying whirlwind and continues along its path through the bald tree where it proceeds to pick up the leaves collected by Leona's whirlwind. Not quite done with its travels, the cyclone continues on into the more densely forested section of the forest, carrying within it a verdant green spiral of leaves.

Preoccupied with watching the cyclone's wake, Kamijyou does not realise that Pookybear has launched himself in the air. That is until he hears the first of a series of five sword cleaves emitting from above him. Suspended in mid-air, the Moonlord weaves his sword into a complicated set of cleaves, splits and carves so fast, yet so graceful that he appears to be dancing in the air. The Moon Blade Dance indeed.

As deadly as it is beautiful, the five crescent shaped shock waves generated from Pookybear's Moon Blade Dance dart towards the tree swiftly, slicing tree branches clean from the tree trunk. By the time three more crescent sword cleaves (emitted from Pookybear's sword when he had landed on the ground) join the previous five, the once-bald tree was rendered into a cylindrical wood block protruding from the ground.

(Kamijyou inches away from the phallic jokes that comes to mind. Blast Deidrik, he's a horrible influence on his thought process.)

However, the Moonlord is not quite done yet. Drawing his blade back across his waist, he lowers the stance of his body. Kamijyou can almost hear him murmur 'Flash Stance' underneath his breath.

Then his blade just moves.

Over and over and over, his sword swings horizontally across his torso, generating a large horizontal shockwave for every swing. The shockwaves slam into the tree, cutting through the trunk like hot knife cutting through butter. It isn't until Pookybear has cut his way through half of the tree block that Kamijyou realises that there is a methodical touch to the shockwaves.

Each of Pookybear's swings are angled so that the shockwaves reach the tree trunk at different heights. First high, then lower, then even lower. Each shockwave lops a chunk off the top of the blockish tree trunk, cutting it shorter and shorter until all that is left is a thick stump at the bottom.

(Oh Altea. Think non-phallic thoughts.  _Non. Phallic. Thoughts._ )

When he is done, Ogun and Leona launch themselves into a spinning revolution each. Whirlwind, Kamijyou recognizes, and zip across the remaining tree stump, chopping it clean off the ground.

Finally, all that is left on the ground are bits and chunks of tree trunks and branches scattered haphazardly around a circular tree stab that is barely protruding from the ground. Plus three thoughtful looking warriors surveying their handiwork.

"34 seconds." Pookybear announces to the silent clearing in his clear light tenor.

Leona is the first to erupt in cheers, whistling loudly and patting Ogun on his back while Pookybear saunters forward to join them.

Kamijyou hangs back, mulling over the elaborate tree cutting process.

Firstly, using the centrifugal force generated by Leona and Ogun's Whirlwind Typhoons to remove the leaves off the trees and Pookybear's mobile Cyclone Slash to transport the leaves elsewhere. Secondly, utilizing Pookybear's precisely aimed cleaving shockwaves to hack the tree into transportable sizes. And lastly, utilizing the superior strength of the mercenaries' axes to chop the thickest tree trunks clean off.

Kamijyou shuddered. He did not want to be on the opposite side of this three anywhere near the PvP arena.

"Hey Kamijyou!" Leona hollers at him, breaking him out of his train of thoughts. Oh, his presence is being acknowledged. At Leona's beckoning wave, Kamijyou jogs over to the trio.

"Good afternoon Kamijyou. What brings you here?" Ogun inquires as Kamijyou nears them. Always polite, this Ogun.

"I've got your lunches—" "Whoa! Rice balls! And tarts! You're the best Kamijyou!" Kamijyou shuts his mouth mid-speech and leans back on his haunches with well practiced patience. He's been interrupted by Leona so many times over the years of knowing the mercenary that he's forgotten any sort of irritation at the Barbarian's enthusiastic gushing.

The blond mercenary tugs the basket out of his hands without ceremony and ploughs into the food, though he does not forget to hand a rice ball each to his fellow warriors flanking his sides. Pookybear stares at the rice all in his palm for a moment. Then he turns to Kamijyou.

"Did you make this?" he asks. But Kamijyou hears what the Moonlord isn't asking.  _'Did Flayce make this?'_

"Flayce made the rice balls, peach tarts, cocktail and apple juice."

Pookybear's face pales visibly at this.

Taking pity on the poor Moonlord, Kamijyou adds, "I harvested these from the farm. No tampering was done, to my knowledge. I wouldn't try any strawberry pudding for the next few days though. "

Pookybear looks reasonably relieved, as does Ogun who finally takes a bite of his rice ball. Leona, who is on his third rice ball, is oblivious.

The warriors are washing down their meal with cups of Apple juice, courtesy of Flayce, when Kamijyou finally asks them why they're cutting unsuspecting trees down.

"Deidrik hired us to clear this section of the forest for the development of our guild's private farm." Ogun explains as he hands Kamijyou a scroll of parchment.

"We have a private farm?" Kamijyou says, unrolling the scroll to peer at its contents.

"As of one week ago, we own one in here, the Lower Ridge Forest. I checked the guild log. I don't know how Deidrik managed to get it approved though." Pookybear shrugs.

Bribery? Blackmail? Beg? Knowing the level of shamelessness Deidrik is capable of (last Kamijyou checked, it was equivalent to the current level cap), it is better not to know.

Wait a second—

"Hired?" Kamijyou blinked up at the three warriors. What could Deidrik possibly pay these boys with? Each of their individual wealth had to be at least triple that of the entire guild fund.

"Yep." Pookybear says, pointing out a line on the scroll and reading it aloud. "One 7 day Premium Trading House ticket per person, redeemable upon job completion. Redemption expiry date, infinite."

That little shit. He bribed  _his own guildmates_. Kamijyou is going to kill him. He better pray that his Miracle Relic is capable of actual miracles because he's going to—

"Wait Kamijyou, you can't kill him." Pookybear interjects hastily.

Oh Altea. He spoke aloud didn't he. Deidrik that Vestinelspawn. He is capable of ruffling Kamijyou's non-existent feathers without even being physically present. Blast him—

"At least, wait until we redeem our tickets."

Well. That. Is surprisingly cold-blooded. Especially since this statement didn't come from the cutthroat merchant Pookybear, but Ogun. Kamijyou can almost hear Deidrik moaning ' _I feel so loved'_  piteously.

"Deal." Kamijyou finds himself saying.

"Alrighty guys, let's get back to work." Leona says, bouncing up from the basket on the ground where he had been silently packing the trash from their lunches back into the basket. "The sooner we finish up here, the sooner we get our tickets."

And the sooner I kill Deidrik, Kamijyou adds viciously.

 

**End**


	4. PMS is Better Than Mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Private Messages shall be known as PMs. The Private Messaging System shall be known as PMS.

"A— Aachi— Achoo!" In comparison to the many other sneezes that Deidrik has heard in his lifetime, his own sneezes are not the most unique sounding sneezes. However, his recent sneezes have been strangely persistent. The last day he has passed without sneezing is three days ago.

This is worrying. His HP is not decreasing, so it is probably not a cold. What could it be?

Wiping his nose with a handkerchief that he quickly tucks back into his blue checked pants, Deidrik shakes his head and returns his attention to the medic room. His Healing Relic EX is balanced on a pile of loose dirt in the centre of the room. It pulses every so frequently to douse patients in the area with a wave of warm healing.

This is Deidrik's fifth day of medic duty.

So far, it has been an exciting five days worth of experimentation. The customised healing relics are performing wonderfully. Extended lifespan, controlled healing pulses. There will be plenty to discuss with his fellow Saint brothers the next time they congregate in the Brotherhood.

Speaking of relics though, the Lightning Relic EX that Deidrik had planted at the new private farm in Gray Ridge Forest is whining at the back of his mind, demanding mana from him irritably.

The relic had somehow achieved sentience on the third day of its livelihood.

(On that day Deidrik learned the joy of fatherhood. He was  _this_ close to shouting "My new baby! I'm a Daddy now!" and dancing in joy.)

It has been alive for six days now. Day one being the day that Deidrik boarded the airship headed for Saint Haven. It's practically a world record holder for the longest living relic summon now.

(Deidrik barely restrains jumping for joy again. His patients might think him nuts. The Healing and Medicine Board (a.k.a. HMB) would put him on trial for insanity charges.)

Which reminds him. The private farm. Deidrik is looking forward to the moment when he would lay his eyes on it again. The three warriors should be done with the tree cutting by the time Deidrik gets back.

As for transportation.. He has acquired Celsarir's services.

In the correspondence that Deidrik had sent to the Majesty-of-the-Guild-who-doubles-as-a-librarian, Deidrik had included the usual; bait (see: book bribery) and her instructions.

Long story short, she was to transport the tree trunks to Calderock by floating the logs with Switch Gravity and Black Hole alternately. He had even included stick figure drawings to illustrate each step of the procedure.

Celsarir had  **not** been happy with Deidrik's letter. Oh the hermit Majesty enjoyed his offering of the Brotherhood's Bible, Newest Edition, sure. But his chickenscratch stick figures... Well.

What was it that Celsarir had snarked over the Private Messaging System (henceforth shortened to PMS) ?

Oh yes. 'If Deidrik was competing with a three year old for Best Picture Award, the three year old would win. Hands down.'

Deidrik had PMed back that he didn't need to win against a three-year-old, he's happy so long as he wins Merchant May.

He won the PMS war.

On a second thought though, Deidrik wonders if he should have recruited Kamijyou for the illustration part. The Crusader has a way with quills and parchment that would have Deidrik shredding his own paintings in shame if he wasn't so shameless.

Word has it that even Argenta had commissioned a self-portrait from him, and still keeps it with her.

If Word is to be believed anyway.

Oh wait. Deidrik pauses. He hasn't told Kamijyou about their new private farm yet. In fact he hasn't told anyone in the Guild about the new Farm. Except his accomplices anyway, they needed the information.

The Guild Message Board is no good. Its purpose has long been converted to Guild Planner. It is filled to brim with the whereabouts of all members of the Guild. Deidrik's announcement would drown in there and never be noticed.

No, something more direct is needed here. Something like a… gathering. Even better, a Guild Outing. They haven't had one of those in a while. The last time had been when they discovered the Green Dragon Nest.

Altea, that's not even a while. That's  _ages_  ago.

It's decided. There will be a CaiGarden Guild Outing. Now to move on to the details. Venue. Deidrik ponders. Venue, venue, venue...  _Aha!_  A proverbial light bulb goes off.

Deidrik grins.

The Beach.

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to shizuyue and suis :3


End file.
